Falling to Pieces
by Gillian Taylor
Summary: This is the subject of her fragmented soul, science and fiction and truth so intermingled.


Title: Falling to Pieces  
Author: Gillian Taylor  
Email: usstrustno1@hotmail.com   
Website: http://horizonfiles.hispeed.com/X_Files/xtreme.htm  
Rating: PG  
Category: V, R, A, kind of AU  
Spoilers: Requiem, This is Not Happening, DeadAlive (sort of)   
Keywords: MSR, Scully Angst   
Summary: This is the subject of her fragmented soul,   
science and fiction and truth so intermingled.  
  
Archive: Gossamer, Ephemeral, anywhere. Just drop me a   
line so I can visit and get a cheap thrill out of   
having my story up somewhere where it can be appreciated.   
  
Disclaimer: Sadly, I can lay no claim to the characters   
from the X-Files. If I could, I would die a happy woman.   
Mulder, Scully, Byers, and Skinner belong to Ten Thirteen   
Productions and I'm only borrowing them for my own   
perverse enjoyment.  
  
Author's notes: Thanks, as usual, go to my beta, Crysta.   
This story is a sequel to the stories Remnants and  
Where Have all the Happily Ever Afters Gone?  
  
"Falling to Pieces"  
by Gillian Taylor  
  
One streak of the brush, and a glimmer of gold appears,   
paranormal in its beauty on a piece of parchment of pure   
white. Another pass, and red appears, rampant in the   
color of blood that has covered her hands far too many   
times. Once again, and purple appears, the color of   
royalty and purpose, but no purpose resides behind her   
cornflower eyes. Again, and blue rolls across the canvas,   
the blue of eternity, the eternity that she has lost for   
all time.  
  
The happily ever after that she had wished for and longed   
for with every breath in her being had disappeared like   
the white dissipated with each stroke of her brush. This   
time was supposed to be happy, a time of renewed love and   
celebration between herself and the man that lurked in her   
dreams. But that dream had been shattered like so many   
pieces of glass. Her soul lay shattered on the floor, and   
yet she could summon little desire to glue each piece   
together again.  
  
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall  
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall  
And all the King's Horses and  
all the King's men  
couldn't put Humpty Dumpty together again.  
  
Another brush stroke and the sun appeared, a falsely smiling   
face that spoke of childhood and joy despite the horror and   
sorrow that lurked beneath. Oh, how she wanted to erase that   
vile smile. It suggested that happiness lurked around the   
corner but she had no desire to be happy again. Then she   
felt her son squirm within her belly and she relented with   
the rush of love that the sensation induced. She might be   
happy again, in time, but for now she was alone with the   
memories.  
  
Fragmented colors appeared before her in a chaotic display   
of sunset and moonrise. This was to be her son's room, a   
room where the intermesh of light and darkness, of night   
and day, can play before his youthful eyes. In this, she   
had found a measure of release. The influences of her   
strict science and his unrelenting belief appeared in every   
brush stroke. There a whimsical alien waves a chubby green   
hand, there the constellation of the Big Dipper rests poised   
to pour whatever it contains upon the slumbering earth below,   
and there the sun smiles forth in its golden beauty. This is   
the subject of her fragmented soul, science and fiction and   
truth so intermingled.  
  
Dana Scully sat on a wall.  
And Dana Scully had a great fall.  
And all the FBI's horses  
And all the FBI's men  
Couldn't put Dana Scully together again.  
  
The brush lay forgotten within the paint bucket as sob   
after wracking sob left her body. She was broken, but   
there was no tender touch to bring her back together.   
That gentle hand now lay six feet under ground, never   
to be seen or felt again.  
  
The shrill ring of the telephone strove to interrupt her   
moment of pain, and she allowed it to, listening absently   
as her machine picked up the phone.  
  
"Hi, you've reached Dana Scully. I'm not at home right now,   
so if you will please leave your name, your number, and a   
brief message I'll get back to you as soon as I can." Her   
too young voice was chipper, for it never bore the weight that   
she did now. She should have changed the message, for it no   
longer described who she was. She was broken.  
  
"Agent Scully...Dana, it's Skinner. What we found five months   
ago was a lie. He's here, Dana, and he..."  
  
She was up in an instant, and the paint can spilled onto the   
floor in her too hasty plunge to reach the phone, "Sir, I'm   
here."  
  
"Thank God," the man's usual gruff voice was choked with   
emotion and shared pain, "Byers will be by to pick you up in   
ten minutes. Pack some extra clothes."  
  
"Sir? Are you sure?" She never dared to hope anymore, for   
hope was the quickest path to travel to pain.  
  
"Yes."  
  
That one word echoed through her once deluded mind, bouncing   
with a joyfulness that she had no right to feel, not yet.   
"Is he ok?"  
  
"He will be."  
  
"I'll see you soon, sir," Scully murmured.  
  
"We both will."  
  
With the click of the phone, her world returned to its   
previous silence, but it was a silence filled with the purpose   
that she had once lost. There, each piece of her shattered soul   
was gathered together in hopeful hands to give to the one man   
that could put her together again.  
  
****  
Georgetown Memorial  
ICU  
  
A flash of red, purple, gold, and blue passed before her gaze   
as she wove her way among the nurses, aides, and doctors that   
crowded the ICU unit of Georgetown Memorial. Byers walked,   
unheeded, by her side for her gaze was riveted on the tall form   
of her superior.  
  
"Sir," she said in a quivering voice as soon as she reached his   
side. Part of her hated the perceived indignity of hormones, but   
the major part of her was unable to give a damn.  
  
"Scully." It was not Skinner's voice that responded, instead it   
was a too familiar, and much longed for, rasp of her name from the   
bed behind the Assistant Director.  
  
Her breath hitched in her throat as Skinner moved aside to show   
her the one person that could ever hope to save her fragmented   
soul. His too dear face was bruised and battered, but it mattered   
not to the woman who stood in shock before him. "God...Mul..."   
And she was in motion, and in his arms in an instant.   
"Mulder...you're alive..."  
  
"Last time I checked..." his voice whispered through her   
hair. "Something you want to tell me?"  
  
"I...God...I missed you, love..." Each word was torn from her   
throat on the wings of every sob. His hands, his wonderful   
hands, soothed her as he murmured sweet nothings into her hair.   
And for one complete moment, she found her happily ever   
after...just as she knew that her happily ever after would   
last for all time.  
  
Dana Scully sat on a wall  
Dana Scully had a great fall  
and only Fox Mulder of all  
the FBI's men  
was able to put Dana Scully together again.  
  
~*FIN*~  
  
Feedback - The new drug. Gives you the  
quickest high out there.  
  
usstrustno1@hotmail.com 


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